


Alone

by ImhereImQuire



Category: True Blood
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homophobic Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve kills his maker - now what?</p><p>Written before Steve's maker was revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lann_the_cleverest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lann_the_cleverest/gifts).



There are tears in his eyes. He doesn't remember crying but everything is red and blurred, making him half blind. He cries blood now - was that something about vampires that he’d known and forgotten, like the weakness of silver, or was it a secret only known to those on the inside? He couldn’t say, all he knew was that he felt like a freak for it, to have something so essential to being human turned on its head that way, subverted into something alien and bizarre. More than that though it made him angry, because there wasn’t any reason at all to cry, no, not at all, at least not over the red mush coating the concrete and splattered up the unpainted bricks; mush that had once tortured him, taunted him, kept him prisoner for lord even knew how long before deciding that damnation was the cruelest punishment that she could decide on for Theodore Newlin’s only son.

She, the nameless bitch who thought that she could keep him forever; but only managed a month before he had forced the jagged edge of a pencil through her undead heart, leaving him to preside over the gory mess he was now crying over so uncontrollably. There was no reason for him to be behaving like this; no need at all for his teeth to be chattering, for his body to have been thrown to the floor with great shudders that had somehow translated themselves into sobs, for the feeling of emptiness that he feels in the cavern of his chest.

Reason or no the sense of loss is crippling though, every bit as crushing as the morning when he’d gotten the call from the coroner’s office to say that there had been an ‘accident'; asking him to identify the bodies of his mom and his dad and little Bethany, one right after another, making him the last Newlin, just like that, as though there shouldn't be a limit of two family tragedies maximim before noon on any given day. 

That was what had pushed him into marrying Sarah, that sudden sense that he was the last of something, but there was no comfort to be had from a marriage now; there was no chance in the world that Sarah would take him back now, any chance of that ending at fang point, weeks past.

No, nothing awaited him now, not now he’s a dead man. Sarah had left him over two video clips on his computer on the mere suspicion that he might be queer, and liking cock was nothing compared to liking blood for a member of the fellowship. Faggots were the same species, at least, while fangs couldn't be prayed away, and being dead was nothing that could be conquered with willpower and restraint, no matter how you looked at it.

Nope, he’d lost everything along with the beat of his heart, exactly as the demon who made him had suggested; his friends, the aunts and cousins who made up the remains of his family, even the church and staring at the gory smear on the basement floor he knows that this he’s completely alone, just as she’d wanted, and perhaps its some sort of demonic bond between maker and made, and perhaps it isn’t, but he cries like he’s never going to stop.


End file.
